Gweithred
by Snoodle
Summary: Title translates to "action." Bran and the Drews accidentaly recover their memories; snarkiness ensues.


"The difficult thing about memory spells," Merriman said to him, "is that the memories are never actually gone. They are closed off to whomever the spell affects, but once the trigger is seen again, that division is gone, and the person remembers everything that the spell blocked."  
  
"Yes, I remember," Will said. "I read the book, too. Why are you bringing this up? Has something happened?"  
  
"Do you remember the last spell I cast?" Merriman's visage was stonily focused.  
  
"How could I forget?" How could he, indeed? That spell had taken from his four best friends the recollection of the greatest battle in all of Time, and left him the only one still walking the earth with those memories.  
  
"And you remember the laws which define how a trigger can be chosen?"  
  
"Well, of course." Will's eyes clouded for an instant as he pulled up the lines from the back of his mind, then cleared. "A trigger.must be an unthinking object, small enough to fit in a man's fist, large enough to be seen with his unaided eyes, and must be at the scene of the casting, visible to the spellcaster only."  
  
"And you remember what was chosen in that particular incident?"  
  
"I was there, too, Merriman, and I remember everything you remember."  
  
"Tell me anyway."  
  
"You used a kestrel, flying behind a mountain behind them."  
  
"An attempt to be poetic, and kestrels do not venture more than a mile from their homes. Unfortunately, it backfired."  
  
"You mean they saw it again?"  
  
"The four went walking in the hills, and it chose that hour of that day to fly over their heads. Barney saw it first, and fainted. Then Jane and Simon, who stayed upright although dizzy, and finally-"  
  
"Bran. What now?"  
  
"Go, find them, cast the spell again. Only take care not to be so foolish as I, and hold something small in your other hand, and take it with you when you leave. We will put it in the chest with the other triggers."  
  
"My lord."  
  
**  
  
When Jane woke up, her first instinct was to check on Barney. The clock read 9:45, so she pushed back her covers and put her feet on the floor. Standing, she tied the sash on her robe and plodded across the hall to the boys' room. She knocked lightly. "Barney? Simon? Are you awake?"  
  
"Mmmphgrsh," she heard Simon reply, then the sound of him getting out of bed and walking to the door. He opened it softly. "Quietly, now," he said . "Barney's still asleep."  
  
"Is he all right?" Jane asked.  
  
"No severe injury, a bit of head trauma." Simon said. "Other than that, he's all right as the rest of us are. You know."  
  
"Oh," said Jane, feeling silly for having woken Simon up. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Well as can be expected," he said. "I mean, you know what it was like. To be walking along, Barney's running ahead, you're making eyes at Bran-"  
  
"I was not making eyes at Bran," Jane said firmly. "And what to you know, anyway?"  
  
"All right, Bran making eyes at you-" Jane swiped at him, and he laughed and ducked. "And it was all like that," he said, suddenly serious, "until Barney looked up, and got that look on his face."  
  
"Like someone hit him in the stomach with a fifty-pound weight," Jane said. "And then he collapsed, and you and I looked up." She trailed off. "Do you think it's true?"  
  
"Which part?"  
  
"All of it. Do you think that Will and Gumerry are really magical? And that Bran's the son of King Arthur, and that the grail we found on hols was actually the Grail, the big one, the one everyone's been looking for for thousands of years?"  
  
Simon leaned against the doorframe. "Well, that's the trouble, isn't it?" he asked unhappily. "Yes, I do believe all of it. Don't you?"  
  
Jane sighed. "Oh, yes," she said. "I believe that all of that is true, and that it all happened, but.well, don't you get the feeling that we're done? That after that last bit, we don't have any more to do, and so we're stuck here, knowing everything and not doing anything with it?" She looked down the hall to the staircase, leading downstairs. "Poor Bran," she said.  
  
Simon nodded in agreement, and was about to speak when a falsetto voice came from behind him. "Poor Bran," Barney squeaked from deep within his covers. "I'll bet I know what he needs. Hold on, you two, I'll just run down and give him a hug and kiss, and see if he feels better."  
  
"Sod off," Jane said. "At least he didn't faint."  
  
Barney poked his head out from beneath the mass of blankets on his bed. "At least he took it like a maaaaaan," he purred, then dived back underneath. Simon swallowed a laugh and held Jane back.  
  
"Now, Barney, if you're feeling better, why don't you go see about breakfast?" he said firmly.  
  
"I'm in my pyjamas," Barney said.  
  
"No one will care," Simon said. "Go on, get up."  
  
With a wounded sigh and woeful looks cast at both Jane and Simon, Barney slid out of bed, out the door, and disappeared downstairs.  
  
"Well, he's young yet," said Simon.  
  
Jane smiled. "Thanks. And-don't say anything, Simon-I'm going to check on Bran. Honestly, if you were him, wouldn't you need checking on?"  
  
**  
  
She found him in the music room, sitting at his harp. His back was to her, and he gave no evidence that he was aware of her arrival. His hands rested on the strings, but made no sound, and she was hesitant to break the silence. "Bran?" she said tentatively. "Would you like to talk?"  
  
"I knew he wasn't my father," he said. "At least they let me remember that much."  
  
Jane said nothing.  
  
"He knows, too," Bran continued. "And now I wonder why we keep up this celwydd, this lie." He turned around and looked at her, and although she could not see his eyes, the emotion on his face was more evident than she'd even seen it before. "I love my Da," he said. "But I wonder why my other self was so quick to let my real one go. If I were with him," he swallowed, "if I were with my father, I wonder what it would be like, wherever we were. I could look back, am I right? I would have the power to see what happens here."  
  
"I don't know," said Jane.  
  
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and laughed softly. "Of course not, Jenny. And I don't know either, and that, the not knowing, makes it ten times worse."  
  
**  
  
Simon came down the stairs, and ran into Will, who was dripping wet. "Been outside?" Simon asked, frowning at the wet spots on the rug. Although he supposed an Old One could clean something like that up as easily as he made them.  
  
"Yes," said Will. "Say, do you know where the others are? Not just Jane and Barney, but Bran, too."  
  
He's going to to take our memories away again, isn't he? Simon thought, but he pushed it far to the back of his mind. "Haven't seen anyone but Barney," he said. "Jane left early, I think. Went down to the village. Do some sightseeing."  
  
"And Bran?" Will asked.  
  
"Haven't seen him all day." Which was the truth.  
  
"Ah, well then. I'd like to talk to you three, and Bran, all together, sometime today. Something left over from what happened last week."  
  
Simon panicked. Should he admit he had his memory back? Was Will really going to gather them together to take it away again? What if Will didn't know, and he accidentaly let it slip? "Sorry," he said. "Last week?"  
  
Will frowned, looking perplexed, and Simon congratulated himself. "Last week," Will said. "You know."  
  
Simon smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he said again. "When we were in Tywyn, looking at the shops? I don't remember anything special."  
  
"I see," Will said. He looked over Simon's shoulder, up the staircase. "Well, if you see anyone, tell them that I'd like to have everyone together to plan our next trip."  
  
Down Memory-less Lane? Simon thought, but said nothing.  
  
"What was that?" Will asked.  
  
"Nothing," Simon said. 


End file.
